Segregated
by annemarina
Summary: Wrote this a while ago..


"Recently, we have had news," began Mrs. Jacoby, "Jessika will not be returning to Palmwood Academy. Her parents have informed the school that she and her brother have gone on an er-'excursion'."

I could tell Jessika had not gone on an "excursion." My Mom was talking to Ms. Spielg and Jeffy, her 17-year-old brother, was gone too. Apparently, Jessika and Jeffy went out to school, they were never found.

Jessika volunteered at an abolitionist distribution center. She worked long hours, and her 15-year-old face started to look much older. You could tell 12 hours was a long shift, and it was getting to her. She believed no matter how you looked, you were always first class. I bet she left because of her father.

Robert Spielg was a member of the Ku Klux Klan. He beat Jessika often. Jeffy could not bear to watch it. He had a cow when he found Jessika's job. My guess was Jeffy could not stand it any longer.

I was walking home and I decided to visit Ms. Spielg. She welcomed me in and seemed happy, but I noticed a wet hanky hanging out of her pocket. She gave me some fairy floss, Jessika's favorite and told me how unhappy she felt. She was an abolitionist and truly loved Mr. Robert. She could not tell whom she followed for fear he would leave her.

I went into Jessika's room and saw one of the floorboards sticking up, ever so slightly. I pried up with my fingernails, ignoring the mind-blowing pain, until it came up. I saw Jessika's glass bottle she took from her Dads used bottle pile. There was a paper folded in it. We used to take turns burying it and giving clues to its whereabouts to the other. A secret in the bottle.

I yanked the cork stopper off and unrolled the papyrus.

"Dear Marisol, Jeffy explained the whole plan to me." I winced upon hearing my 1950, hippy age name.

" We left last night. I snuck back to leave this with a hiding spot to guard it. I knew you would find it. Do not worry, I am at the ADC." I felt a sharp pain inside hearing her use our nickname for the Distribution Center.

"I convinced the manager to give me a night shift instead of a day shift. Jeffy found a job as a farmer. He and the owner get along just dandy. He gets paid extra and usually a good meal or two. I brought my Sunday best with me, I wore it to dinner with him one night. The owner, Mr. Dielsmith, was so nice and he introduced me to his daughter Marika. She is German just like my family. She is 16 and she really took me under her wing. She gave me a really fine haircut and showed me a whimsical way to wear it. I miss you terribly and hope you could see me, Best Wishes, Gigianna."

I giggled to myself hearing her say our code name for her. Mine was Felicia.

"Mary," I groaned hearing Mr. Spielg use his "better" way to say my name. "I hope you are not in the dastards room. Come downstairs and admire my show costume." I walked down the grand staircase and saw his horrifying get-up. He wore trashed, acid treated clothes, hair that was so unkempt I could not look, and his skin was painted black, except around his mouth. It was so horrible of him to do that, so I screamed, loud and clear like a bell.

He retaliated and I tried to cover myself up with a "you look dandy Mr. Spielg." Though I was horrified on the inside. "Tonight Mary, I will be performing in this dandy outfit of mine at the city council meeting. I am going to get them laughing before I propose a 1 million dollar increase in the Klan's budget."

"Mr. Spielg," I countered "wont the mayor be horrified at your, um, fine outfit?" I was an abolitionist at heart, but I pretended not to be. I couldn't work to save my life. If I ever need a job, I have to have something to support me. Just because my brother Linden was in the Klan did not insure me a one-way ticket to happiness and greatness.

I almost went home, but I decided to save myself from an argument with the world's biggest blockhead, yes, you guessed it, 21-year-old Linden. So I headed to my place of employment, also known as the diner. It is simple to be a waitress. If they call your name, walk over, read their face and decide, serious vs. humor and mad vs. happy. You have to want the latter.

The diner is called "White mans paradise, black mans horror." The name itself is horror. Inside I see Jakki, Lindens girlfriend working the front. She is truly amazing at it. She is like a sister to me. I don't bother going in since I know she has it under control. I don't get how she can stand Linden.

I remember when Jessika and I used to come here. Jakki would serve us sundaes, on the house, with extra cherries. It was so much fun. I would visit her, but I am not allowed in Meadowsville, the black area of town, where the ADC is located.

Life will be bittersweet without Jessika. I can't wait 'till segregation is over. Jessika will come back then. Looks like secret messages will have to suffice. Jessika did want to be a spy a few years ago. I walked on, I made the mistake of taking the shortcut home, it usually is great but it goes right past Lindens employer.

Ringoni's tailor shop was a great place to get clothes mended. Linden's days were spent cutting clothing to the way a customer wants, I do not dare say this to his face, but he is very good. Sometimes, in brutal feuds, he says he just pretends the fabric is I, or sometimes my "precious" hair as our Mother calls it.

I peer in the window, a bad mistake, but when it rains, it pours. Linden stormed out of the building and I do not think it was the lure of toffee from across the street.

"Marisol," he said in a sneering voice, "what's this I hear about you going to Meadowsville."

"Linden," I retorted back "You know that never would I dare to cross the line between here and there?"

"Somebody hear about wittle Jessika and her 'disappearance.' Someone is pathetic without her fort to hide behind."

He was acting out his words and his tone was such a baby voice, it was so comical that I almost laughed. But the meaning of his words got to me, was i prepared on my own? I did not give him the satisfaction of letting down my guard, so I quickly spit out another comeback, straight out of a book I found that he wrote of comebacks. By far the most creative and artful piece of his.

"Some one is very insecure without Jakki to be fueling his comeback machine."

That struck a blow, he was astonished, but I knew that no matter how great it felt I was wrong. I had no right going about his business. How was his baby sister supposed to know Jakki was almost done with him. No matter how cruel he was to me, Jakki was is best friend. He was so polite in her company, I longed for it permanently.

With all the dignity he could muster, Linden turned sharply on his toe to go back to work, but tripped over his shoelace. He fled the scene.

An hour later and I found myself placing a nameplate on Mr. Henrose's spot at our incredibly long dining room table. My Mother loved long, fancy adult dinner parties. Tonight was her special Hallow bergs Eve November 8th dinner. Hallow bergs Eve was holiday celebrated by members of the Klan and their families. Father and Linden gave us a double serving and we hosted every year. My mother swept out in an elegant, knee length, very tight cocktail dress in a shiny emerald silk. My father was wearing a suit, Italian or bust. Linden copied my father. We dared not speak of the afternoon's incident. Distract mother, who was now in full blast hostess mood, and you ruin everyone's evening. So we kept quiet. Linden dared not tell because I was the "baby" and everyone favored me. I dared not tell because Mother would simply shake her head and say " Oh, Marisol tattletales are very young compared to you, now let me fix your hair." Nothing is ever wrong with my hair may I add. I wore a raspberry colored dress that was two inches shorter than hers. To show I am younger ,and therefore less important.

Mrs. Perdinna showed up at six sharp, the exact time on he invitation, with her husband and children in tow. Benny is 21, a member of the Klan, Jennevra is 19, and Franklobeth is 4. She is so misunderstood. My own troubles were minor compared to the bullying of her. "A name is no reason to tease," says her mother firmly when she seeks help. End of discussion. After them, twenty more families show up. The Beltrivoes arrived shortly after everyone else and someone in their party caught my eye.

He was tall, at least six inches on me, he had a bluish tint to his grey eyes, and his hair was blond and yet dark. I was daydreaming weird stories about who he may be, when Linden interrupted my thoughts.

"Yvettarine, whose the ladies man?" I knew Linden was just jealous of his high fashion tailcoat, and the ladies staring placidly at him. I have always enjoyed the sound of my secret name. At all meetings, we use are secret names. When Jakkis family arrived, Linden was swept away. All jealousy forgotten. He is very weird at times.

The mysterious Beltrivoe walked over and started talking. I zoned out but caught "cousin of the Beltrivoes" and "I like your dress," but my heart leapt at "would you care to dance." So we joined the other pairs and he introduced himself as George Harrissoon, his secret name was Richard. When the music stopped, we all sat down to a feast. Ham, Steak, Salad, Rolls, and caviar for the first class members. My father thoroughly enjoyed it. He does love caviar.


End file.
